


We Promise

by madridistagoblue



Series: Seirin Week 2015 [6]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: 2nd Year, Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 02:00:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4372847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madridistagoblue/pseuds/madridistagoblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Though he had known it in his mind, it hadn’t dawned in his heart until the clock struck zero and the whistle blew that the seniors had only one game left to play. Now that the ultimate prize had slipped from their hands, it seemed so much clearer.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Promise

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 6 of Seirin Week on tumblr. The prompt was 2nd Years/Past.

At first there was only silence. There were no tears or shouts of anger, only blank expressions and distant stares. The feeling of loss, of knowing that something had just slipped out of your hand that could never be regained, had not yet settled as the players left the court, their squeaking shoes the only sound that accompanied them as they made their way. It was as though the world had stopped and all emotion had dissipated for a second in time. It was all too sudden to understand or process.

Realization dawned when they reached the locker room. Fists slammed against metal doors, rubber shoes met plastic benches, and the running water of showers masked sniffles and arduous breaths. Curses were thrown into the unsympathetic air and "if only's" were mumbled too quietly to understand. A moment later, all was quiet once more.

In the absence of chatter, cheers, and congratulations so typical of the locker room atmosphere, the overlooked, everyday noises became deafening. Shoes tapped along the ground, sink handles turned with a harsh metallic squeak, and uniforms were thrown into lockers with a whoosh of wind. The players moved swiftly to change, not wishing to remain in the stifling emptiness of the locker room or in this building that taunted them with memories of trophies, bright lights and victorious smiles. But Kuroko Tetsuya remained frozen in place, a towel thrown over his head, which was sunk towards his knees. He cried silently, unable to hold back tears but afraid to break the reverent silence. The tears fell down his cheek and landed on the black shorts of his jersey.

"Hey!" Hyuuga chided, though his anger was hushed as the syllables scratched against his throat. He lightly slapped Kuroko's back, right over the number 11. "No need for _you_ to cry. You boys still have one more shot at this."

"I know," Kuroko muttered slowly, eyes still downcast. "But I wish I could have done more. For you, captain; for our other senpai."

Hyuuga shook his head and gently rubbed his hand over Kuroko's shoulder. "You did your best," he said calmly. Kuroko tried to ignore the way his voice tripped slightly over the words.

"Thank you," Kuroko replied, though he still refused to meet the captain in the eyes.

"It was us who should have done better," Hyuuga sighed softly and walked away towards the door of the locker room before Kuroko had a chance to reply. He said nothing more, but his eyes wavered and he clenched his fists against the fabric of his jeans.

Kuroko finally looked up and watched the way the muscles in the captain's arms tensed and his back quivered as he walked away.

He knew what Hyuuga must have been thinking about:  a missed free throw with 47 seconds left in a game that ended with a one point difference. But it wasn't the captain's fault, Kuroko thought. He wanted to let Hyuuga know, but calling out to him now would be futile. The truth could not shake the third year's sense of guilt.

The fact was that they hadn't been strong enough as a team. The wild look in Kise's eyes as the second year small forward sunk one of Midorima's trademark high projectile threes from mid-court burned in Kuroko's mind. He knew Kise best of any of Seirin's players. He should have known better.

But Hyuuga was right. He had another year and another chance to make up for his mistakes. Hyuuga would never stand at that free throw line again -- not with a stake at the championship on the line. There was still the third place game, but that was far from a comfort. It felt almost like pity, a weak last hurrah. Kuroko tried to refocus himself. They would be up against either Rakuzan or Touou. He should feel excited at the chance to play against Akashi or Aomine. But somehow he couldn't shift his priorities right now. It felt disrespectful to the seniors, who hadn't come here for third place.

Though he knew his senpais would try their hardest tomorrow, as would he, for the moment it felt like the end. Though he had known it in his mind, it hadn't dawned in his heart until the clock struck zero and the whistle blew that the seniors had only one game left to play. Now that the ultimate prize had slipped from their hands, it seemed so much clearer.

 Shoes tapped lightly from behind him and he turned to see Izuki slowly make his way down the hall. His book of puns was nowhere to be seen, his amiable smile replaced with tight lips. Kuroko knew what he must have been thinking too, of two turnovers in the third quarter as the momentum began to change in Kaijou's favor.

Riko was next, fiddling with the sleeves of her uniform sweater. She likely thought back to that same moment, when Izuki lost his mental bearings and before Furihata helped reorient Seirin's offense. He could almost hear the "what if" she was surely shouting in her mind. What if she had brought in Furihata sooner? Would it have saved two costly baskets? There was no use drawing up the game plan now, but, surely, she was.

Koga and Mitobe left arm-in-arm, leaning on each other for support. Though Kuroko was not sure what they thought about, the two did little to hide the tears in their eyes.

Kiyoshi followed next, his head up high though his eyes were in a daze. There was only so much he could do, having just returned from surgery in America. Kuroko knew he wished he could have played more, played harder. The second year shadow bit his lip and suppressed a sob.

The seconds that followed were more silent even than those that came before. Most of the team had left the locker room, but Kuroko couldn't yet bring himself to move. He was still in his jersey, barely able to stand. The physical stress of the game somehow wore on his muscles so much more in the pain of defeat.

"Kuroko," a familiar voice called out from behind him suddenly, breaking the tension. He turned to see Kagami, smiling at him, even if the tense smile merely hid the void in his eyes. Even through his pain, Kagami would always seek to be Kuroko's light. "Come on now, get up! We have a game against Akashi or Aomine tomorrow! And we should go watch and see who wins."

Kuroko nodded. "I just wish we could have done more," he said softly. Kagami reached his hand down and pulled Kuroko up off the bench.

"I feel the same," Kagami sighed, as he backed up to give Kuroko room to change. "But don't blame yourself."

"I can't help it, Kagami-kun," Kuroko replied. "We all do."

"I know," Kagami admitted. "I do too. But, Kuroko, we couldn't have gotten our championship last year without you. I know it's probably no comfort to think of the past, but our senpais will always have that memory. And it's because of you."

"Not me," Kuroko shook his head. "You too. And them. All of us."

Kagami gave Kuroko a small smile -- this time genuine. "Yeah," he agreed. "All of us."

When Kuroko had changed, Kagami gave his shadow a pat on the shoulder and accompanied him towards the door. "All we can do now is make sure we help them win third place," he said. "That way, at least they'll have two medals they can treasure."

"It's not all you can do," a voice said from behind them. The two second-years turned to see Tsuchida standing behind them.

"Promise us something, alright?" the third-year asked.

Kuroko and Kagami nodded in unison.

"Win the Winter Cup next year. For us."

Light and shadow looked each other in the eye and, with a soft smile, replied together:  

"We promise." 


End file.
